Merry Melodies
So I woke up sick this morning. At 3:30am. That's two nights in a row that I've been up after only 4hrs of sleep. And the sad part is, I'm not tired. Under normal circumstances, I'd be a wreck. And, well apart from the perpetually running, chapped nose and having lost my voice, I'm doing alright. I'm still a little wonky on the pills, but I've noticed that today I was able to stretch the barrier on being decisive and assertive. Which is cool, because tomorrow I start taking the full dose.
I also had a thought that usually, at some point or another during the day though more often in the morning, first thing, I get a song in my head. That tune will almost always stay there all day, but I've had a thought that I should make note of it. And so....
Today's Tune:
Flypaper by k-os from the album Atlantis
"I'm not one to repeat myself,
But if it ain't broken, Don't fix it;
I see you burning all that midnight oil,
But I'm caught between a rock and a hard place,
That's why I'm walking in the city with a hard face;
Seems I'm afraid of being afraid."
Foiled!
I've been a little off since friday. I had another appointment with my therapist on thursday before I left town for the weekend. Remember how I said I didn't really feel like talking? Well, I let him do most of it. I'd gone in there with the thought that I'd let him give me his insight into what his thoughts are on me and my brain. To my surprise, without any prompting at all from me, that's what he did. I was in a good mood when I went in there. Deleriously. He started asking about that, about how I feel when I'm like that, how long it last, etc. We discussed the possiblity that I am bi-polar. He decided that he doesn't think I am, but perhaps I have another disorder, called dysthymic disorder. It's a chemical imbalance, and that perhaps I should at least consider taking medication for it. I explained to him my reservations, about altering my mind, about seeing what medication did for Jeff, about everything. But I decided to try it anyway. I figured, that's why I'm there, right? To feel better?
So, since friday I've been taking antidepressants. It's a strange feeling, almost being asleep but wide awake. I've been playing with it a bit in my head. There's times I know I should have been mad, but I'm not. It's like I can't get upset. I've noticed too, when I talk to people how different I react to them. More at easy. Strange.
So, Trynn isn't really there, but at the same time I had this idea this morning, about him being trapped in a bubble, a hard shell that he's pressing against but can't break free from. And while he's there, he's watching, screaming, as the house in the trees is slowly dismantled. But, we both knew it would come to this someday.
I Don't Think They Had A Blackbird
I've had a couple good days in a row. Odd thought this morning though, I haven't been able to remember my dreams for the last little bit. Maybe I've been too consumed to try. This morning it was something about Diane's parents living at 1407 Graymalkin Lane, in Westchester New York. Beautiful place. They had a strange lot of kids wandering around though.
So, it's last-day day. I'm pretty jazzed about getting the hell out of here for a few days. Plans so far include seeing my therapist today, washing my filthy jeep and going to Edmonton to get comics and look at digital cameras. There are, of course, other things to do, but that's the extent of the pressing stuff. I'm going to relax a bit, maybe watch a movie or two.
Funny, my mind was racing this morning, thinking about all kinds of different things, but now I'm... still. There's a lot I need to get done before I get out of here today anyway, so that's probably a good thing.
Way Out Here
I've had an influx of strange ideas the last few days. I've been thinking about terrible movies, writing stories and I'm tossing around the idea for a video game called
Paperhell.
The player will control a character who works in an office, doing data entry of some sort, and then one day he snaps, and the world around him turns into a vast wasteland of paper.
Origami monsters pop up out of the ground, office supplies and furniture start attacking him, and you have to fight your way through the levels to escape. then he starts having moments of clarity again, finding out that the monsters are actually co-workers and then swat units, and he's been killing people the whole time. Then he goes insane again and fights his way to the end. The end of the game climaxes when the player faces his own will to live and you have to do a bunch of button combos to make the player put the shotgun to his own head.
A little over the top? Maybe, but sounds kinda fun to me. Billy figures I should have it made as a flash game, that way we could all play it at work.
I've been
flipping back and forth the last couple of days,
moodwise. I'll be in the best mood for a bit, and angry as all hell the next. I don't know, maybe I'm just bored. Most of what I'm angry about is work related. I can talk at length about absolutely nothing, thinking about stupid video game ideas, for example, but as soon as anyone gets in my way with work, I go bat-shit insane.
That, and other things got me thinking about simplicity. I've been over complicating things, with work, with money, with my mind.... I went for a drive last night, in the fog and watched the stars. Reminded me of when I would just take things in. Anyway, one thought lead to the next, and I had a nice peaceful,
truly serene moment.
Sugarhigh
I am finely balanced. Yesterday, I ate about a pound of little gummy candies, interspersed with
hand fulls of jalapeno and cheddar
tortilla chips and proceeded fall into a lethargic state. Sugar makes me sleepy. Extremely sleepy. So today, coupled with Billy's observation, "yeah man,
caffeine makes you depressed," I'm also not having any more coffee today. One cup, that's it. So I should be in a coma any minute, regardless. And the two doughnuts and two
oreos I had don't count. The point is, it's easy to throw me off my equilibrium. Too easy. And admitting that has revealed my one true weakness. Curses.
Barb and I went out for dinner last night. I was in the mood for
chinese and asked if she wanted to come. We chatted a little about this and that. I told her I was working on a story, and that kinda got me in the mood to write. Could be that, or the warm weather, either way I feel like moving again, intellectually.
Facts and facts. How do you feel today, Trent?
I'm alright. I was in a good mood for a bit this AM, until I had to start arguing about work. Something about fighting all the time has lost it's appeal to me. I'd just as soon walk away now as stand and argue. Anyway, I was daydreaming yesterday about having 3 part-time jobs at places like, the video store and some fast food place and something else. About sleeping until noon and staying up until 4am. About being something opposite,
unencumbered by the world and no longer shackled to a job that gets me no satisfaction.
Hmmm, you'd think I was bitter. I'm not, I just need to find another way to focus my creativity, to
separate my life from my work, and to be able to focus on my endeavours long enough to accomplish something. That's the trick. I can have all the free time in the world, but it's not until I have something else to do that I get in the mood to do something.
Then again, it seems I've always been contrary.
Impending
I can't wait for the weekend. It's warm here today, nearing the positive side of the
Celsius scale, and that puts me in the mind for being outside, for
acquiring comics and, oddly enough, for watching the run-off draining from the road and streets as everything becomes
incredibly dirty. Spring is still a ways off, but I can't help feeling a little giddy about it's immanent approach. Already the days are
noticeably longer. Already I'm starting a bit of spring cleaning.
This time of year takes me back to my early teens; walking downtown in
Edson, touring through the drugstore and the bookstore, picking up as many comics as I could. There was a kind of energy about springtime then, a youthfulness, a want to explore, to be outside. I still get that every year. For some reason though, the last couple of years I have it in January.
My trips are booked this year. Diane and I are off to Vegas at the end of march for the weekend. We're going on a little trip, somewhere warm to relax for a few days. Then we're off to Iceland for the end of May. I have almost everything lined up for that trip. I want to get a new digital camera for the trip, but I might just borrow Billy's again. It's going to be an expensive trip as it is.
What else....? Oh, I found this cool blog about comics by a comic store guy, for comics readers. Beauty.
http://the-isb.blogspot.com
From This Side
Sunday morning. I miss, really miss having weekends off. I'd like to be able to sleep in today, sip some coffee and do some puzzles. That's the mood I'm in today, although sitting here, entering numbers and listening to pink floyd while I drink coffee isn't so bad.
I've been having flashes of my future too, trying to sort out what sort of man I'm going to be as I start moving into my later years (since it's looking less and less likely that I'm going to die at an early age). Actually, I'm thinking about it because I saw Blow, with Johnny Depp last night for the first time. I tend to steer away from movies about reality. Frankly, I find I get enough reality in my real life, so I tend towards a lot of escapism. Is it any wonder I can't make sense of my life? My reference points are comics, horror movies, video games and cartoons. On the other hand, I could watch the news and reality tv all day and become desensitized and souless.
Anyway, Blow.... It was wierd watching Depp age through the movie. That's what got me thinking about aging, about planning your life about and about how it doesn't work out. I thought about patterns, about the risks we always take, the chances we fall back on because it's... nature? Or because we resist change?
Then I started thinking about why I fight with people; why I argue. Actually, that's not true. I was arguing, in my head with people last night. I was playing out conversations with people and had some arguements. Anyway, the point is I decided that I was actually arguing with myself. Obviously. There was a point, but it was late and I lost, but thought I should make note of it regardless.
I am:
Looking for something...
Wicker Man Blows
Ok, I may be a little biased, having gone into it with the preconception that it was going to be bad. I decided before hand that just because I don't like the guy (well, that's not fair because I've never met him, but you know what I mean), that this was going to be a big turd. In all fairness, now that I've had the experience, I'd like to justify why it was shit. And so, the top ten reasons the remake of The Wicker Man blew (in chronological order)...
10) Nicolas Cage. The man is a wet blanket. His comatose style of acting, his slow, painful way of speaking. I haven't liked a performance of his since, well, never, actually. The only thing I dreaded more than seeing him in this movie will be seeing Ghost Rider. Gah!
9) Leelee Sobieski. How do you make a comatose performer look lively? Put him next to another actor who looks like she's taken sleeping pills. On the other hand, I thought, as I watched the credits roll, this isn't an action flick, right?
8) Cop cliche #1: What the hell? He's a motorcycle cop in California? Ok, it's set in America. I can get past that. Wait, did he just reach down and pick up that doll while speeding down the highway on his motorcyle? The only thing in this scene that topped that... watching him reach through the glass of the burning station wagon, trying to rescue the little blonde girl. "Stretch, Nick, you almost have her!!" Oh wait, the car exploded.
7) Cop cliche #2: So distraught by not being able to save the girl, Nick's character is now confined to a life of watching bad westerns blankly, unable to go back to being a cop, popping prescription drugs and replaying the incident over and over in his head through a series of black and white flashbacks.
6) The letter. Oh for fuck sakes. It's not enough that we have the unnecessary over developement of Nick's character, the missing kid, Rowan, is the daughter of an ex? And wait, she was his fiancee?? What's next, Rowan's his daughter?
5) The island women. Ok, I noticed right away that the population of the island was mostly women. I'm ok with that. There's the odd man wandering around here and there. But come on, they only thing these "witches" were missing were pointy hats and flying broomsticks. There was the scene with the gathering and Sister Beech woud speak while the three sitting at the table would respond... all at the same time?!
4) Nick kills a bee. That's right, he KILLED A BEE!! You'd think he pulled down his pants and spanked the beat of Yankee Doodle Went To Town on his bare ass in front of the President, the room went so silent and people looked so shocked and disgusted. But wait! It's important though because we find out
here that he's allergic. Important plot device or not? AND just incase you didn't catch that (or because the director thinks we're all stupid), he goes to his room to unpack his Epi kits, making sure that we have full frame zoom.
3) "The men are important. For breeding!!" Come on!!! In the original, they understood the principles of paganism, especially that there was a unity and harmony of male AND female. Here we have these kooky witches, enslaving men and performing "Rituals of the Ancients"? We find out the Lady of the island is the "earthly representative of the earth goddess" and she is descended from a long line of such women. Obvilously the writer/director again thinks we're idiots, and in this enlightend age of information and diverity tries to pull off shit like this. Bastard.
2) Rowan IS his daughter!! Well, if you didn't see that coming by now.... Ok, we have a cop (who, you know, is obligated to investigate missing people) who has been asked by his ex-fiancee (who wouldn't help a friend, especially a cop?) to find his hitherto unknown love child! Like he needed MORE motivation.
1) Fear of the "shocking alternate ending". Ok, I admit I couldn't finish watching the movie for two reasons: I was envisioning an ending where the character (typical, gun-toting cop american hero type) finds a rocket launcher and blows up the island. Anyone who has seen the original knows the cop dies in the giant effigy at the end, but I couldn't see it going that way in this one because the director has proven he's a dick. Then I remembered seeing the "watch the movie with the shocking alternate ending" in the title menu. Could that be the shocker ending??
Reset
I'm angry and hurt today. I'm also a little sad. I've been debating whether or not to even bother posting about it, but that's what this is for; keeping track of my thoughts and emotions. I didn't think anyone even read this anymore, but apparently Sonja still pops in and scans through it now and again. Anyways, it's a blog about my thoughts and emotions, and about working through them. About coming to some sense of understanding myself, about exploring myself.
I had a thought this morning about resetting again. I've done it several times in the past, and decided that there is something to pushing the big red button. When I was younger, and things would get too hot, with my mind and the world outside, when I'd feel overwhelmed, I'd pack up and leave; start over; reset. I did it when I dealt with losing Jeff and Vicki, when I decided not to fight my parents about moving to BC. There was a moment there when I was trying to decide whether or not to stay behind. I did it again left BC to move in with my dad, in late august/early september 1993. I don't know that anyone knows I was gone, other than Nicola. It was before we started seeing each other, my parents were on the rocks again and I missed alberta and my old life alot and I was bored of the "new beginning" I had there. So I packed up on the fly and caught the greyhound to Edson. I stayed with dad for just over a month, started school again in Edson and even started hanging out with Jeff again a little, when he was out of the hospital. It got to be too much again though, really quickly. Jeff was not the same, I saw Vicki in town to often, and school went back to being unstimulating, and scary. I started slipping into old habits again, skipping more classes than I went to, looking at the same life that was going no where. I hated it there. So I packed again, reset back to BC.
My next major reset was mid-march 1998. I quietly packed again and moved away from BC, to eastern alberta. College was getting me no where, most of my friends where too involved in just getting stoned and there was no inspiration left in me. Nicola had been stringing me along for too long, and I could see the patterns of repitition sucking the life out of me. Late one night I caught the greyhound again and left without saying a word to anyone.
That's about when I moved in with Diane. I stayed with my sister for a bit, started working at the liquor store again and got a car. I ended up moving in with her and have been living with her since. That was the last time I really "ran away". I realized this morning that since then, I've faced most of the heat, struggled through the overwhelming bits, tried to make peace where I could. That's what's different now, and why it's easy to become overwhelmed, because I hold on to it and try to work through it rather than just running away. I guess, in a way, I've learned that if I don't change the cause of the problem, no amount of running is going to out pace it. That's not to say I haven't tried more subtle forms of resetting. I have; changing jobs, changing mindsets, changing blog addresses. I was tempted to do so again, on several occassions. Maybe I'm just getting too tired of fighting.
Naw, that's not it....
Friendly Neighbourhood...
And guilt and guilt and guilt. It's tricky, when I start feeling guilty about something, I begin to feel guilty about everything. I feel guilty about stuff I haven't even done, stuff I might have thought about or even had a passing conception of. I felt guilty this morning about not having talked to Sonja in over a month. I've tried to have conversations with her, emailed her a couple of times without getting responses and even showed up back in Cold Lake early to hang out with her for a little bit. But she avoids me now, and I feel guilty about it. I feel guilty about reaching out and getting nothing from her. Then I felt guilty about making an effort to get back in touch with Sonja, knowing that Diane would hate it. Diane's jealous of my relationships with my friends, since most of them are women. So I don't talk about anything that has to do with Sonja (or any of my female friends for that matter), and THAT makes me feel guilty.
A co-worker (Jen) asked this morning about concrete fasteners to attach her satelite dish to her apartment, and I offered to help her, since I got the feeling she really didn't know what she's getting into. Not that I have any practicle experience, but I tend to be ok at figuring stuff out. Then I felt guilty. How would Diane react, I wondered. Should I be worried about alterior motives? Do I have alterior motives? No, I don't. I try to help people, and try harder when I feel guilty because it helps take away some of the guilt for a short time to do something for someone. I've decided that I have a Peter Parker complex. Something terrible happened once to Pete that he figures he could have prevented, had he done more. He struggled for years with the burden of guilt, responsibilty and power to help and how to use it, many times putting his own needs, his own relationships on the line to help people. Am I Spider-man? No, not really, but I understand what it was that drove Peter in those days. I understand hiding and secrecy, masks and costumes, helping strangers while lying to loved ones.
BWAHAHAHA!!
New picture day!!
Same Old
I've been feeling a little... off this morning. I was having a bit of a rough time with old memories when I woke up. I usually have some deep, half awake thoughts right before I'm actually aware I'm awake. I was thinking about my son and his mother this time. He'll be 16 this year. Crazy. Anyway, I was remembering when Jethro was getting married, and I'd come out from BC for the weeding. The night of the stag, after the obligatory strippers and way too much to drink, someone mentioned that she was living in the apartment across the park. Stupidly, I decided it would be a good time to try to talk to her. Her roommate was warned I was coming by someone at the party and met me at the lobby. More or less, he convinced me to turn around and leave. That was the last time I tried to talk to her. It makes me
nauseous sometimes when I think about it, like it did this morning.
I was thinking about
different things after that. I was thinking about spring coming, about
Lan, about last year around this time (for some reason I didn't understand at the time). So I went back and reread my blog from Jan 2006.
Withdrawal, duality, "one step closer to being a whole person"... cycles. I was also thinking about writing
Trynn and
Xanth, before I reread that. About them sitting on the step at the foot of the tree, having a conversation about Tali being gone, having never really been there.... Then I saw that I wrote something similar last year. I guess we can't help repeating ourselves. Everyone around me seems to say the same things all the time, and I'm no different. Even saying, "I hate
repetition" is getting
repetitious.
Hmm. Makes me want to withdraw....
I'm feeling withdrawn the last couple of days. I don't want to be around people right now. Delayed reaction to having my perspective flipped around? Strategic retreat to reevaluate the field and enemy position? Some one got to close, so now I'm more guarded and snappy? That last one's probably closest, though they all ring a little true. I think Diane wanted to talk this weekend, in her own way. I was ready, I think, but unwilling. I couldn't bring myself to tell her about the new perspective. Perhaps I'm afraid it isn't true either.
That's pretty much all I got today. Feeling low and guarded.
I Wish:
Bendis would quit writing the Avengers. The end of the team wasn't the lead up to House of M, it was the terrible, repetitious dialogue, 2D characterization, and dynamics that just don't work. Give me back my team!!
I were less indecisive about what I want to do.
37 Degrees West
I've had a bit to think about over the weekend. On thursday before I went home, to Elk Point, I had another appointment with my therapist. I'd decided I was going to plunge ahead and let him in on the secret I've been living with for the last 7 years or so. I'd decided to introduce the part of me that I hide, that I've been protecting. He in turn introduced me to an interesting concept. I've been breaking down my thoughts and actions into "his and hers", essentially, creating a seperation in my self of the things that I catagorize as male and female. He suggested that these stereotypes don't define what is male and female, and that the conflict I have between those halves is my own shame about the things about me that are different. Basically, I've been feeding my alienation from the people around me with shame about my softer, emotional, poetic self. What it means is, there is no Tali and Trynn, no dicotomy of light and dark, at least not in the sense I've been living it. All of it is everything that I am that no one else is. Well, not no one; again, that is my stereotypical view of people. I've still got a ways to go, I think, as far as sorting myself out and feeling comfortable with it all. I should look at where it started, I suppose, try to figure out why it was ok for me once to be emotional and expressive and when that ended.
Hmm, but right now, Lexxy is sleeping in my lap and I've got a hankering for some reading.
Linguini in Clam Sauce
I'm tired :P I froze my fingers last night shovelling the snow we got yesterday. It'd become pretty hard packed by the time I got home last night, and we had to get at least the driveway done for Barb to be able to go home today.
I don't really feel like writing today. Just feeling like I have nothing to talk about, which isn't true, I just don't feel like talking. I have my appointment today and I'd planned on telling my therapist what it is that I've got rolling around in my head, but now the day is here, and I'm feeling that ridiculousness again. I'm feeling like what's there isn't real and isn't worth talking about. It's that part of my mind that is, I don't know, trying to protect me? Defenses. Really it's just another way of surpressing it. Part of the cycle.
Damn it.
Snow Day!!
Well at least it promised to be. I got up this morning at my usual time, had a shower, got ready for work and all that and about the time the van comes to pick us up, I called to see if they were on the road or not. We're in a winter storm that seems to be covering most of Alberta and the weather is nasty. It's not "the storm of the century" that everyone was preparing for, but it's snowing and blowing enough to make it more comfortable in bed. But we ended up getting a call a couple of minutes ago saying that we're able to go in this afternoon. Oh well. The nap I had the morning was worth it :)
Billy and Joe and I went out to EB Games last night. I picked up WarcraftIII for my mac because Billy had it and wants to have some gaming. Should be fun. I played a bit this morning and it seems like it could be fairly interesting. Oh, and it came with a WOWC trial, and since I seem to be the only person on the planet not playing, I'd try it out. Turns out my poor little computer doesn't have enough RAM. Damn. Looks like I'm destined to be a console gamer.
But now I have to get ready to go to work, again. :P
The Otherside
As if on cue, there it is; the anger, the frustration, the feeling of being tongue tied because I let people talk me out of believing in myself. What happened? Where did it start? Yesterday with "this is too good to last." After that I was chatting with Diane who commented that I was acting weird. I wasn't, I don't think. I was lighter and in a good mood, maybe a little bubbleheaded. That lead to her asking about therapy and us talking around the issues and eventually she sideways decided that she didn't want to talk about it anymore. Why does it affect me so much that she doesn't want to know about things about me? Because it makes me feel insecure. I'm starting to see myself as that little kid again who hid from people because I was told I wasn't good enough, or smart enough, or strong enough, or cool enough. I'm 32 and I'm still so small.
Anyway, when I talked to her last night on the phone I could hear the tension in her voice. She's guarded again, steeling herself against whatever she's afraid I'm going to say. It's that she thinks I'm going to become some other person, that I'm going to morph into something else. That I'm going to leave. So I put it away, all of it, and then I analyze everything I say, do and think, looking for those hints of "the other one", making sure I push it way deep down.
But it isn't just with her, but her's always comes up as more important. I think that if I don't have her, her love and approval, her support, I don't have anything. So when she can't deal with my shit, I can't deal with my shit, and so it builds and I get this pressure in my body that threatens to blow itself to pieces. Then I wonder what the other side of oblivion looks like.
So now the guys I work with have me wound up over stupid shit. My "snotty" emails about questions have been met with hostility, which makes me hostile in return. I was told "this is the new process" and now that isn't working, so they want me to "just phone". It's not the way I was told to work it. I had a system, they didn't like it so I adopted theirs. Now I'm supposed to put my ass out there so that they can make things easier? I know the material isn't there, but I should phone and check anyway?
So that's my mood today. What are you going to do about it? Well, I've had my rant and my hour of mad, screamy music turned up too loud, I know. Let's turn the music down, throw on something more soothing, say Concrete Blonde (because I had them in my head in the shower this morning), and just breathe a bit. It doesn't matter, really, about the material. The issue is dead. That's something I don't have to stress about anymore. They want to get away from the process that isn't working, so that's good, right? As for Diane, you'll just have to find a way to talk to her. But to do that, you have to figure out what it is that is going on in there.
Sunset
I still feel good today, more of that light, swimming feeling. I'm find the less I look at myself so minutely the easier it is to just deal with it. I can't help wondering how long it's going to last though. It always seems to get away on me, leaving me paranoid, hurt, sensitive and broken. But I might as well enjoy it while I can.
I've been cleaning out my music library the last couple of days. I have music on my computer I've never listened to, so I'm picking albums that I haven't heard and giving them a listen and in some cases, deleting them. I discovered I have an album by HorrorPops, an interesting band that plays 50's style rock and punk. The lead singer plays a stand-up bass and she has some awesome lyrics. And Misfits. I forgot I put them on here and actually gave it a solid listen (for 3 hrs yesterday). Turns out Glenn Danzig was the front man back in the day. Mix that with The Weakerthans and KT Tunstall and you have a fair idea of what I've been listening to. Interesting mixes.
Stop worrying, Trent. Just be. That's enough now.
Starlit Swimming
I feel oddly balanced and tingley today. I feel aligned, like finally everything is in the right place. I get this feeling from time to time, and I'm not sure it counts as an emotion, per se, but it feels good. The weight that presses down on me isn't gone, but it seems bearable, lighter even. My therapist said I should just sit in it (any emotional experience, not this one specifically) and not worry about analysis. Just feel it. It's like swimming, being surrounded and free at the same time. Water.
Catch 32
I'm a little bored and restless today, which is funny because I thought I'd be dead tired. Yesterday, despite being awake at 3am and up by 4am and having not had a nap, I decided to go to Darren's in Bonnyville to play poker. I'm no great poker champion (truth be told, I suck), but I made the decision to go out and socialize, to connect with people and find something to do other than hide in my room by myself and torment myself with speculation, conjecture and theories. Anyway, I stayed at Darren's, slept on the couch and I woke up at 5am again to get home to change before work. I could have used a shower, but I'll likely treat myself to a bath tonight and a movie. Basically hide in my room.
I almost feel like writing, but as usual, when I sit down to it, I can't get started. I'm thinking that what's blocking me is me, the same way I push back my feelings, my... I don't even have a word for it. What is it that I'm holding back? It seems everything. I've stunted myself to protect my fragile core. I'm secretive, and sly. But I feel inadequate sometimes, reviled, wrong. I guess that's what makes me feel alone. I can't figure out my balance by myself because I can't see it clearly anymore, and yet I can't get myself to talk about what is going on. I'm afraid to start over again, and I feel pretty sure that I'd be alone if I opened up the way I want to. Catch 22. Stay stunted and closed and keep the friends and family I have or open up and risk losing it all.
Let's see....
I am:
Sipping lukewarm coffee I poured an hour and a half ago.
Sorting through my iTunes library, trying to decide on something I want to listen to (finally decided on Foundation).
Slowly working my way through the mountain of paper on my desk.
Searching the intranet for technical manuals on anchoring systems.
Oh, and I turned the comment feature back on. What's the point of trying to be more open if you never listen to anyone, right?
I Really Wanna Know
It has been a while since I've had so strange a morning. I woke up at about three this morning, trying to get comfortable while the cat was sleeping in the middle of the bed, curled up around my legs. I tossed and turned, thinking about everything from going to Iceland and Vegas this year, to practising conversations about how I'm going to explain the Tali/Trynn dynamic to my therapist, to what it is about sexuality, duality, gender, peace of mind and whole-being that I just can't seem to come to terms with, to the longest one sylable word I could think of (which at the time was "strength". Finally at 4ish, I decided to just get up and have a shower.
I got dressed, and decided I wanted to go for a drive, maybe see if I could find a breakfast drive-thru for some early morning sustinence. I took a tour of Cold Lake's mainstreet, find nothing but the 24hr convience store open, and no offense to the workers of convience stores, but the food is generally bad. Anyway, I decided I should probably just head home and get ready for work. I turned down two streets that I never take on the way back. I was going up the alley behind some apartments near my place and I saw someone laying on his back, lengthwise across the road. Odd, I thought. I drove up to him, shining my lights and honking the horn to see if I could stir him, but he didn't move. Right about then every episode of CSI I've seen flashes through my already wound up mind; body dump. I got out of my jeep, very cautiously because for all I know, the guy's a cracked out vagrant looking to jump some unsuspecting sucker to steal a vehicle, that is if he's not dead.
I approached him, calling out, "hey buddy, are you ok?" Still nothing, but now I can hear him breathing, steady and heavy. He's asleep, and smells of booze. I shook him a couple of times, but he wouldn't wake up. I started walking back to my jeep and called 911. I got into my vehicle, and talked to the RCMP dispatcher, who kept putting me on hold, while I backed out of the alley, just incase the unconcious guy decided he needed to make a break for it. I explained to the lady the situation and she asked if I could give him a ride home. I said no. Seriously, a) I can't wake the guy up, b) I don't know what state of mind he's going to be in when he does wake up, and c) I was a little frightened of the propect. What if he's armed?
In the time it took me to get turned around to where I could see the road and guy laying in the alley, he stood up and started to run down the road past me. He was hardly able to stand, totterring on his shakey legs. I was still on the phone with the dispatcher when I rolled down my window and called out to him, "hey, are you all right? Do you need a ride?" He turned to face me, his momentum still carrying him down the road and he fell backwards, hitting his head on the pavement. The dispatcher put me on hold again as I got out of my jeep to make sure the guy was ok. He must have hit his head pretty hard, I figured. He started to talk to me, I asked him where he lived, and I couldn't understand a word he was saying. Literally. It was english, but gibberish. He was drunk. I got back on the line with the dispatcher, who asked again if I was going to drive him home. I said no, the guy was obviously intoxicated and I would stay with him until a police officer showed up. She told me there should be one arriving soon and hung up.
In the meantime, I'd walked back to my jeep and my new young friend followed. I unlocked the door and let him in. He tried talking again, but there was nothing coherent. He yammered on for the next 8 minutes, asking if I knew some people, told me about "bygones and bygones" and something about "by the time we get to the light down there at the second floor". I told him I couldn't take him anywhere, but to just sit and relax and warm up a bit. He said he just wanted somewhere warm to sleep and get sober. As if on cue, the cop car came rolling up. The officer escorted the guy into the cruiser and asked me a few questions about my contact info.
Cheers
Another year already. 2007. Wow.
It doesn't really
mean anything. It's just supposed to be significant of a new beginning. So, new year's resolutions? I made mine last year. I've been working toward letting go of the things I'm insecure about, about feeling strong enough to be able to feel comfortable with who I am. What does that mean? It means an end to paranoia, to defenses, to worrying all the time what everyone else is feeling or thinking about me. It means living for myself, but having the ability to have friends again, close friends, with out the half-truths, hints, secrets and excuses. It also means that (and this is the tough part) I can find a way to communicate without having to explain myself all the time.
I had an appointment with my therapist the other day and we talked about my insecurity, my defensiveness, the emotions I never show. He figures I don't know how to express myself emotionally, and I somewhat agree. I haven't told him about the cast of characters I've been living with, so he got a good taste of "Trynn". I don't know if I should explain my experemint (that's what I'm calling the whole thing now) because I'd just as soon not have to relive it, but I think it's still relevant and it still has alot of perceptive truth to it. And I'm still shaking the paterns of seperating all my moods, thoughts and reactions into catagories. Anyway, he gave me an assignment to make note of some emotion while I'm feeling it and just experience it, with the analysis. This could be tricky.
